Thanks to a New York Times article this weekend, I now have a name for the condition I suffer from: Unseasonal Affective Disorder: post-binge malaise.
I suffer from it as bad as a lot of other people. My show comes out with a new season on a Friday, and by Sunday afternoon it’s all a thing of the past, and I suddenly need more…yet it haunts me and remains more than 365 days until I can get more episodes of it.
In some ways Hulu has it right…releasing new episodes of its shows on a weekly basis (See: Mindy Project and The Awesomes), and I look forward every week to a new episode, just like classic television.
And just like classic TV, I get the weekly text from a friend “Have you seen the new episode yet?! We need to discuss.” And that’s how TV was always meant to be.
But in the same sense I love the binge feel. The rush of a season all in one shot. The highs and lows. When the episodes get really bad and boring (I’m looking at you Season 2 of House of Cards) I can just power on through and find one that is better for me.
If it was a weekly show, there are higher odds of giving up on the show, when it hits the toilet.
Yet you lose out on talking to people about it. I hit work on Monday morning, and most people haven’t started yet, or are only an episode or two in…and by the time they finish months later, I only remember the major points, and the little jokes and nuances are lost in my memories.
I’m not gonna change. I am still gonna binge, and binge hard.
This weekend will be Transparent. A few weeks ago was Jessica Jones. And before that Master of None.
As long as they keep feeding my IV tubes with full seasons, I’ll keep taking the drug, and craving more on more.
Aviously 